


Shy Moon

by Matthew1972



Series: Shy Moon Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Amputee Sam Winchester, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Transformation, Background Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Cat Castiel (Supernatural), Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soulmates, Tenderness, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Witch Sam Winchester, Witch's Familiar Castiel (Supernatural), Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23512786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matthew1972/pseuds/Matthew1972
Summary: Retired hunter Sam Winchester feels tempted to turn to witchcraft. White magic grows stronger within him every day, but dare he pursuit his need to understand himself and embrace the power which he's always ignored out of fear? Should he become something so close to what his brother Dean still hunts? In the core of his soul Sam is always driven to help the innocent. To protect the world from the same devil who took away his ability to walk, now a couple of years ago. This is his second attempt at life... and it is about time he found his own path, not that of his late father. His unexpected guide comes in the form of a stray cat by the name of Castiel. A creature too of magic, to whom there is more than meets the eyes. When Sam looks beyond the fur he finds his soulmate in the shy, but generous and loving human being who's fallen into his lap.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Series: Shy Moon Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005657
Comments: 17
Kudos: 75
Collections: Sastiel Love Week 2020





	Shy Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sastiel Love Week 2020. Not prompt related. One scene for each day, but posted as a oneshot, because I can. *g* Loaded with angst, love and more, so please read the tags!

Sunlight pours in through his open window, but Sam pays it no attention. His mind is not even in his messy study anymore. He has travelled far away from the sleepy village around him. Away too from the forest beyond it and the road, which he may never again drive along. Eyes glued to his book, Sam wanders off towards ancient times. To days when druids erected temples of stones. When folk worshipped the sun, the moon and the stars in the night sky… and they were far more in tune with the planet around them than now. He reads about a place and time from where his new powers stem. The ancient runes written in blood red ink, which he slowly deciphers, bring him both answers and a new challenge. They beckon forth this growing thirst for magic from inside of his blood and bones. Sam has a rising desire to understand the side of him which he's always ignored, had to dismiss because of his father, the legendary hunter John Winchester.  
  
"Meow."   
  
Sam is so engrossed in his latest find that he doesn't hear the small sound of his visitor. Instead his foolish, troubled mind retraces the invisible path of his personal time… his dark past, from where his current pain stems. Where he lost his father to demons and where his nightmares refuse to stay. He can never forget that awful night when he got torn from what he was and thrown into what he's becoming more of with each day, a freak of magic, because he can't do nothing with what he knows about the shadows that are luring even on the brightest day. Though moving towards his challenging future is his only chance to stay alive he, ironically, has to concede that his troubled childhood too has given him Dean, his big brother. The one he looks up to, present or not. Dean who is still out there; following in their dad's footsteps by bringing demons to their knees and sending ghosts up to heaven or hell, where they belong. Yeah, Sam is proud of him, will always be… and that is why he continues to bury his nose deep in books. To help Dean stay ahead and alive through knowledge.  
  
The soft thud of four paws and legs landing safe onto his floor boards goes unnoticed by Sam too. He turns the page to read on, searching for the answer. Why did his latest spell not work? Can it be because of the moon not having risen high enough in the sky? He needs a calender to confirm his suspicions. Where has he left his laptop? Sam reaches for the right push-rim of his light weight wheelchair, but as he moves his hand a body of black fur stalks across his desk to plop down onto his book. Eyes in ever-startling vivid blues look up at him. "Meow", the cat tells him.  
  
"I was working, you know." Sam shakes his head, amused by its arrival and how, over the last few weeks, he's somehow adopted this stray feline of scruffy beauty. As so often its black fur is a fluffy mess and its gaze seems to peer right into him, softening his heart on the spot. How can these eyes hold within so much mischief, sorrow and love of life at once? Sam doesn't buy its look of innocence for one moment. Knows that his handsome male visitor wants what cats always do; a scratch or a cuddle, food and water too. Knows that he will give in to every unspoken wish, because how can he not care for it? No one else seems to want to. Oh, Sam has asked around in the village, but the cat has no owner and it's not been put up as missing. All of his neighbours are fine with for him to adopt it… and so he has.  
  
Careless of his mock protest, the cat bumps its head against his hand, and again, with another soft meow. Next, it crawls back up to a stand, sheds a few hairs on the pages of his book and moves closer to his chest to nudge him as if too asking for what Sam gives without complaint. Rather than turn his wheelchair he backs himself up a little to give the cat space to settle on his lap. Paws stretch out as Sam pets its flank and scratches its head in between those large, pointed ears that seem to listen to his musings. "You didn't happen to look up at the moon last night, did you? I should have known to check, but I didn't. Waste of a good potion…"  
  
The only answer he gets is a deep, content purr and the so typical goofy smile of a cat which enjoys itself. Sam grins as his companion too closes its eyes in bliss. Life as a cat must be so simple. So without a care, other than food and hunting mice. No demons to deal with or the burden of knowing what most people don't. How fragile humans are. How ignorant to the worst hell can do to them. To not be afraid… oh, how he envies it.  
  
"Meow." The cat in his lap shifts to beg for more of a good thing.   
  
Powerless to its shameless flirting, Sam keeps on scratching while he takes in his adopted friend on four legs. Maybe he ought to name him? What though if he already has a name? If someone comes for him? Sam hates to get attached and yet, how can he not fall for this silly creature of fluff and adorable sounds? Truth is that for all the distance he needs from others Sam does miss Dean more than he lets on. Somehow having the cat curled up in his lap, or sunbathing on his windowsill, warms his heart, makes the ache of feeling forced to live alone hurt a little less. Sam can only adore how it stretches out its front legs and paws to yawn. He's content to let the cat stay as he is… to have him fall asleep as he works on to search for how to make his spell to protect his house and life work. Company, but one which doesn't ask him questions and which doesn't give him looks of pity behind his back.  
  
With a sigh Sam looks away from his lap to turn back to his book. Back to work, except that the page has turned onto another topic. These aren't protection sigils, warding potions and spells to enhance on them! How? Unsure… he reads the runes on the pages, and he starts to smile over the idea which they unleash from his mind. "You know what? You should name yourself… show me your identity. _If_ I am right this magic spell links us for a moment. Maybe even long enough for me to see the moon too. How about it? Are you ready to help _me_ for a change? I'll feed you after", he bribes with a grin.  
  
Closed eyes flash open at him, shining bright. A paw comes up before the cat in his lap shifts to sit up. "Meow."  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
As if calling him silly, the cat tilts its head, eyes narrowing to add onto the almost human sentiment.   
  
"Good…" Sam reaches for his small basket of fresh herbs. Easily he fishes out the rosemary twigs and white rose petals he'd collected two days back from his small garden. No one understands why he lets it grow so wild or why he doesn't hire help. Not even Dean. They don't get why he limps through the self-inflicted labour of love on his prosthetic leg and with his cane. That he puts up with a night and day of muscle cramps after, all because of his deep rooted need to feel useful. That he uses the garden to provide for his potions and spells, the same things which have helped them… sometimes seen and more often not. They think he's the recluse neighbour with issues and Sam is happy to hide his witch self behind that aura.   
  
"So rosemary, a handful of rose petals, some poppy seeds, mixed with some holy water, two of your hairs… and a few drops of my blood." He picks up his pocket knife. Unflinching, Sam nicks his thumb with it. Allowing for his blood to fall into his bowl, Sam watches as his feline partner in crime sits down on his desk to watch the drops land onto the petals with catlike intent. A band aid ensures that he doesn't soil the pages which guide him further.  
  
Reading the ancient words from his book, Sam chants the short spell. He feels his eyes and sight alike shift towards magic, which pushes itself from the ground and into his home. It clouds over him and the cat by his side, comforting almost in its primal presence. Day turns to night. Sam becomes one with the cat's memories of last night when it explored the forest. Through the trees the light of the moon shines pale, barely enough to guide his silent way across dirt, grass and the blanket of pine needles. The moon is almost on the end of its cycle… Sam now feels it in his bones how its power is on a fall. Soon though it will rise again and fuel the world with magic anew. Beyond the basic feline instincts though Sam senses more in his four legged friend. He has walked many days and nights, passing by on humans until he felt a distant pull. Like him it feels alone, scared and hurt by what life threw at him. Darkness… nightmares… a shiver of cold at a voice of memories. One full of contempt. All too human emotions, which too rattle Sam. How can such an innocent creature carry the weight of the world on his shoulders?  
  
The memories and spell shatter alike as the cat blinks, chasing him out. Sam breaks away from the vision with a name on his mind. One which fast prints on his heart in the same red ink as the runes which helped them to walk together. "Castiel."  
  


* * *

  
Castiel nestles his feline form on the antique arm chair stood in the corner of the study. Its pillows feel soft against his furred flank, a lot softer than the forest floor. He yawns in his contentment over being surrounded by everything Sam. Though his human companion has returned to his books, there seems to have fallen no distance between them. In here Castiel feels safe, cared for and appreciated on a basic level of connection. He's happy to doze for a while, belly full after the meal which Sam put out for him. Though he prefers human delights he can't fault his carer for not knowing yet what he is and why he isn't like the average stray cat. Maybe he should shift and speak?  
  
But as comfortable as he is feeling, Castiel doesn't dare trust in his own emotions about the intentions of others. He's still feeling too hurt. Too lost after being shut out, shunned, because of what an awkward being he is… even for one of his kind. Truth is that he loves being in cat form. To take joy in it by running through the fields and chasing after a butterfly for no reason at all. Living as one with nature suits Castiel better than trying to fit into the human world, including his own community of witches and their familiars. Maybe it is foolishly romantic or naive of him, but he is done letting others decide what is best for him. He wants more from a partnership than a bond through magic alone. What he seeks is acceptance, to be loved, if he's even worthy of that. Sadly, in his own eyes, he has made too many mistake in his attempt to fit in… and he got thrown out too for his efforts.  
  
From his vantage point Castiel observes Sam. He can sense that the younger man's powerful magic is on the rise, but so far most of his gift is hidden away from himself, because of his upbringing. Not only is Sam new at witchcraft he is no known part of the ancient, rather too prideful community. He has no one around to guide him. To teach him the old ways. As such there's more than a hint of fear mixed in with the thrill of learning the art. It seems impossible to Castiel, even when he knows it is true, that Sam is one of the Winchesters. A son of the infamous family of hunters. A man bound to the destiny of fighting for good, driven to rid the world from monsters and dark magic. How can it be so that magic burns inside of a man like Sam? He's unsure, baffled even by fate and her choices.  
  
Despite of everything he should fear about living with him, Castiel feels strangely drawn to Sam and his inner white witch waiting to reveal itself for the sake of the world. Worse, he feels awed by how within the hunter forced into retirement resides more compassion than he's ever seen in any other living, breathing soul. Broken as Sam is, he wants to keep helping others, even if that means using a power most hunters are wary of. He barely looks out for himself doing it too. Pushes himself too far to aid his big brother Dean, the one who calls him from afar and who depends on him, fiercely so… while in turn Sam needs him as much to keep on fighting, because he can't do so in the physical sense himself.  
  
Wheels slip and turn across the floor as Sam moves away from his desk for a bit. Too lazy to get up or even move, Castiel listens to his human companion mutter about the moon and warding symbols. How to enhance the seen and stretch them further out to the unseen, so they can shut all of evil out. He understands the human tongue, of course he does. In this shape though he has no means by which to answer him, at least not one that Sam understands. More books get spread out over the desk. Sam drinks in the words on their pages like Castiel would a bowl of milk, greedily and without pause to care for anything else. Time becomes meaningless…  
  
Castiel too lets the afternoon linger then fall away to nap for a while. For once he doesn't dream of his fears or the days which still leave him cold, shaken. Instead he wonders if he can hold on to what he has going so far… what may happen if he dares to stay. Stupidly, his abused heart feels a deep desire for Sam to become what he's born to be and embrace his powers… _and_ for the witch to want him to be here by his side. Maybe he can allow Sam to discover what he is and not be afraid of revealing himself? Dare Castiel nudge him though? Should he not listen to his inner voice of caution? But Sam deserves more than this lonely, incomplete life. Beyond the shell of a once broken man lies someone who is slowly healing still. Castiel knows that he's falling for Sam more with each visit. Maybe he should leave, be afraid, and listen to his instincts forged by his past?   
  
But when large hands stroke his flank to wake him up, Castiel draws again to that open look of kindness. He can get lost in those eyes filled by a rainbow of earthly colours forever. Lost too in the soul beyond it, which pulls him in ever closer. "I'm closing the window. Do you want to stay or…" The smile fades and the hazel light dims as Sam finishes, "…do you want to stay out tonight?"  
  
None of his fears hold much weight anymore. In this breath Castiel refuses to be alone, sleeping cold under the moon and without the comfort of his human source of distraction and cuddles. To answer Sam he head buts one of his large hands and he rubs his smell onto it. Easily he lets himself get lifted up, dropped into a warm lap and carried away… wheeled down the snug hall and into the modern kitchen. He watches as Sam takes some salad and a sandwich out of his fridge. Milk too. As he eagerly waits out the bowl filled with the sweet treat Castiel is reminded of the kind soul he's found. Sam cares!  
  
More though than the received care he embraces the love he finds in how Sam shares the rest of the evening with him. How he ditches his wheelchair to stretch his long body out on the cosy living room sofa, petting his lap for him to join him, should he wish to… and oh, does Castiel want to. Watching television though doesn't appeal much to him, or maybe that is because he prefers it much more to purr under those damned fine hands of cuddles and scratches. Nothing perfect though can last forever. After a while Sam drifts off from petting his fur and watching the rest of his documentary about human history. Adorably so, the hunter gone witch falls asleep on him, snoring lightly as the moonlit night settles in around them.   
  
Able to see enough in the pale, silvery light Castiel jumps from the sofa to shift. In his human form he stands naked, but he doesn't bother to get dressed, can't when he has no clothes with him. All that he needs to do is switch off the television and find a blanket. Quietly he moves around the house until he's found one. He is gentle too in nudging Sam to lie down all the way and to tuck him in under the soft, grey wool. Sam sighs as he settles further into his sleep. Unable to resist his desires and emotions alike, Castiel kisses his forehead to wish him sweet dreams and allow his hunter some much-needed peace…   
  
Staying though is fast becoming too hard on him, because he wants to do more than watch Sam sleep. Every instinct in him draws towards wanting to hold him and protect him from the pain. To chase out the bad dreams… but what chance has he when his own are haunted? When his self is so riddled with flaws and the need to make up for what he's done? No, he is better off to switch back to cat form and give Sam what he can during the day time, without being selfish in turn. There's no way the other man will want someone troubled like him, is there? In his wake of running away from his emotions and the cause of them, Castiel leaves the living room window open far enough for his return, for him to be able to crawl back through it when he's done prowling the forest to keep his nightmares at bay.  
  


* * *

  
Sam sits up on his sofa. Lost, and feeling alone, until he spots the open window. How? Blinking at it, he can't remember when or even if he's opened it yesterday. He must have done though, surely? Cats don't open window latches… and they can't tuck him in under a blanket either, and yet… here he is. Nothing in the morning adds up. Strange, because he hasn't drunk anything stronger than the cup of herbal tea he had with his light dinner. Sam rubs his eyes to erase the traces of sleep from them. For now he has to shrug his confusion off, because there's no one around for any answers and if they were, he can't expect for a cat to spill its secrets. No, maybe what he needs to do is seek out his books?  
  
Driven to start the day, Sam reaches out to pull his wheelchair over, ready to heave himself into it. His energy though fast deflates. His body isn't happy to sit up and get strapped in. It doesn't care for how Dean adapted the chair to his needs or how Sam chose it over other models, because it fitted his size and habit to speed through the house he has lived in since he'd dismissed himself from the hospital. As has become his normal he feels exhausted by the time he's cleaned up his appearance, including putting on a clean pair of jeans and his red flannel shirt. Why does it have to be so hard to get up?  
  
A mug of strong coffee though does fire up the more positive parts of his brain. As such Sam ignores both the soreness in his hip and the twitch of phantom pain in the absent half of his leg. He can deal with these by now. Knows better than to grumble about what can't be changed, because feeling sorry for himself doesn't mean that the monsters will stop coming for him or anyone else. He needs to up his game. Plus, he has a mystery to solve. Castiel… his furry friend. What is he about? Why can't Sam shake the feeling that he's more than the stray cat which he looks like?  
  
Hyped up on now three coffees and a quick, healthy snack of yoghurt and muesli, Sam wheels himself to his study. His spell can wait, will have to until the moon is where he needs it to be anyway. In no time has he closed and set aside the books that he doesn't need today. Where to start though? Whatever Castiel is, he ain't a monster, right? All the cat has ever given him are cuddles. Maybe he has also helped him by pawing out spells? Probably… unlikely… unless Sam is seeing things. What if his need for company is what makes him see more than what is in front of him? Can he though deny his Winchester instincts? Ignore his drive to seek out what doesn't add up and ensure for his sanity that Castiel isn't a force of darkness coming for him? Where he does good himself Sam rarely trusts it when it gets aimed his way. Has he become too world weary?  
  
His emotions win over logic. Sam writes down his questions and observations in his journal. What is it a cat would want from him other than cuddles, snacks and the odd bowl of milk? A twitch of humour plays unintended on his mind as he underlines the name Castiel. He remembers reading it somewhere in a religious text before. The name of an angel… the Angel of Thursday. What if that is what the cat is? An angel send to him? Sam cringes at his brainwave. No, there's no way God in His right mind would send someone like him one of his devoted servants. Maybe all he has seen is due to his medication. Was he wrong to replace his painkillers with potions? What if they make him see things? Sam supposes it is worth looking into, and so he starts his research there.  
  
"Meow."   
  
Should he be surprised to see Castiel again? Sam looks up in time to see the cat jump onto his desk, making a mess of a few papers and looking at him with that so typical wide-eyed flash of not quite innocence. "You…" He rescues his scribbled down notes from a worse fate than crinkles with a frown, then he smiles when Castiel head buts his knuckles with a brush of by the sun warmed fur. "… are a bundle of mischief wrapped in an aura of mystery. How did you break out of my house last night? What brings you back?"  
  
Of course, Castiel is not going to be useful. Instead he takes up his cheeky residence on the opened book Sam was reading. With his cat-equivalent of a smirk he stretches out across it. "Meow", he repeats his earlier sentiment, whatever the hell it is that he is trying to tell Sam.   
  
"I should buy you a collar with a little bell. Make you wear it too, so I can hear it when you're coming over and save my books from your paws. What do you say?"  
  
Seemingly unamused by his offer, Castiel yawns. Lying on his back now he stretches out his left front paw towards Sam as if to beckon him for a cuddle. When he in turn doesn't answer the plea fast enough, Castiel rolls back around to stand on his four feet and bridge the space between them. He meows again, persistent. To enhance on his point he lifts his leg and paw to tap Sam on the chest in a gesture of, " _Now, silly human_."   
  
Not against a cuddle himself, far from it, Sam hauls Castiel off the table to hold him in his arms. As he pets the mess of fur he shakes his head at his evaporating thoughts. His scruffy, feline companion has no bad blood or bone in his body. There's nothing unfriendly in his loud purring. Nothing human about how Castiel lives by almost primal needs. This cat doesn't care about how broken he is. Doesn't cringe when he lays it down on his lap and its nose rests close to where the doctors had to cut off his left leg. Instead Castiel nudges his hand. Flirts for more of his touches, then gives him back his love by rubbing his head on his thigh before he settles down for a nap as if he hasn't ruined the pages of his book.   
  
But, as Sam smooths out those same crinkled pages, his eyes fall onto the next chapter and how a previous owner has filled up once empty space with his curled handwriting. Above the extensive note they have drawn a hexagram trapped in a circle; a symbol Sam has seen before. His father had once sketched it in his journal along with the name of his grandfather Henry Winchester. It's a connection which Sam has been meaning to look into… but for now he is more curious about what the note has to say…  
  
_"A familiar takes on a form which comes natural to them, both of animal and man. From ancient texts I have surmised that they used to find their witch, not the other way around. Such matches allowed for their community to thrive. Since those early centuries many of the Wiccan tribes have either forgotten or abandoned those ancient customs that a witch is more powerful and their magic more balanced when bonded to their personal familiar. The origin of this change in their ways can be retraced to a devastating virus, a pandemic which struck hard through the familiar race and severely diminished their numbers. Their tragic loss impacted the entire magical world. Witches turned to forced unions with certain bloodlines and only the most powerful one could buy themselves a partner, who couldn't afford a protest. Others believed that gathering in covens gave them power and it did. Sadly, in doing so, their once white magic grew darker, from whence came the witch hunts and the pursuit of their kind."  
  
__"In this century the familiar tribe is on a fragile rise in numbers, but their once so pure power is far from restored. To date witches hold the high ground on the laws in the entire community of magic, even over the more quiet and somewhat secretive druid tribes. It's my regret to report that the true chosen bond between a witch and their familiar has almost become extinct, because of how the leaders continue to dismiss the ancient ways in favour of their ambitions. In the name of survival and fear the balance of their world leans further towards the more demonic side of magic. Perhaps it is no wonder that they are hunted still. As a Man of Letters I am sworn to observe alone, but I return home with a heavy heart over the loss of white magic and a sorrow for the familiar race."_ Sadly the writer's signature has faded to a point where Sam can read it no more. Worse, the paper at the edge is now further smudged and torn because of the being in his lap…  
  
Stumped by his discovery, Sam blinks away from the book down to the sleeping ball of fur. What if...? He can't finish the thought, doesn't know how to when he wonders more so than ever where Castiel has come from. All Sam knows for sure is the fondness he feels for him in his heart. Where Castiel seems to take up space once cold to warm it. What if Sam lets him get closer? Can he risk it? Should he want to heed those warnings from this Man of Letters? As fearful as Sam is of what stirs ever further awake inside of him with each passing day, he realises too that he can't ignore it, because he wants to understand magic and own it so that he can keep being of use. All so that he too can do good. Not with a gun. Not like his late father did or what Dean keeps doing in his legacy, but he can at the least help from within the limits of his growing powers and not let anyone hold him back. Maybe he should stop being so damned afraid of what more and more comes natural to him?  
  


* * *

  
Castiel wakes to a visible shift inside of Sam, a mood change which he can't put his paws on and yet he can't miss it. His witch is talking to him. His words soft, elegant and full of wonder about magic. The study smells of herbs and parchment like it usually does, but now too a sweet scent of sugar and cream comes pouring in from the kitchen… from the oven. It's the smell of home-made pie, which his human half too narrows in on and it causes for his stomach to grumble. Sam though doesn't humour him with answers or acknowledgement, not yet. All he does is release his pie from the oven to place it up higher than Castiel can reach in his cat form so that it can cool down first.  
  
The afternoon ticks by in a pleasant sort of comfort which needs no sounds. Sam works quietly on his spell to protect them both from the devil on his mind. The elegant, silver bowl on his desk and its contents are next covered by a cloth. A filled hex bag too lies on his desk, atop of a pile of books. Now there appears to creep some order in the chaos. Post it notes of short scribbled remarks like "Top shelf" and "Return" label artefacts Sam doesn't clear away today, because he doesn't want to put on his prosthetic leg. It's almost like the hunter is spring cleaning his study and perhaps with it his mind too. That he is ready to dig in to work on the art of magic more seriously than he's done before, which is saying something in his case.   
  
Castiel marvels at how Sam works on. Mind focussed, pain ignored, tiredness forgotten and his entire being startled when the shrill ringtone of his cellphone upsets his flow. "Dean…" Smiling, he reads his brother's name from the screen as he picks it up. "How close are you that you can smell my baked cream pie?" His joke however falls flat at once. From where he sits, Castiel observes how everything about Sam goes from cheerful to barely concealed disappointment, followed by pointed resignation in his side of the conversation. "Of course, I understand. I am sorry too. No… the case has to come first. Sure, call me when your phone is charged again… or you know, if you need me to… yeah, be careful!"   
  
Met with an abrupt end of the call, Sam slumps in his wheelchair, now feeling drained in every sense of the word. Nothing of his earlier good mood remains. "Maybe next time", he mumbles. The upset in his voice drives home to Castiel how the call has only served to make him feel more alone somehow… not that it was Dean's intention. Truth is that the elder Winchester is left unaware, because Sam didn't get the chance to talk to him. And if he did? Well, Castiel doubts he would have said anything about his emotions.   
  
Tossing his phone aside, Sam looks at Castiel with a wry smile. Unexpected his emotions slip out of him regardless of his pride. "I suppose there's more pie for us to share then, yeah? Not that I am into sweet things, but for Dean… I learned to bake, because I could and it was the least I could do. I had to pay him back for all the times he cared for me. When Dad was away, hunting, and whatever. All those damned secrets of his… hiding that we had no money… that he went to bed hungry, because he let me have what little food there was. I am here for him now, but it's so damned hard to be honest. To not do for him what he did for me… protect him. I am scared, Cas. What if by staying silent about my magic I lose the only family I have left? Maybe it is better this way, to be apart, so he doesn't see me for me. I was a fool to think I could… what am I even thinking, talking to a cat?"   
  
Everything in Castiel screams for his self to shift into human form, to close the distance and hug Sam. He wants to let him know that he doesn't have to be alone. That in Dean's absence he can be the friend Sam needs… and so much more too, if he would want him in turn. Fear over being different though is no stranger to him either, because even as every part of his body aches to bridge the gap Castiel is by far too afraid of rejection. Should he shift he is to stand naked before Sam, unclothed, because all of his belongings are where he left them. States away with the one man who'd cast him aside when he challenged him. No, he can't, not yet… and so he does the only thing he can do while he's in his feline body.  
  
Castiel doesn't think twice to jump onto Sam's lap. Without the shyness he feels inside of his human soul the cat in him lies down and it stretches out, begging Sam for attention with shameless meows which soon turn to purrs under those large, calloused hands of pleasure. To his joy his flirting works its immediate charm. Sam reacts to his cuddles by brushing his large hands through the fur on his flank and back, soon going for a scratch between his ears too, the sensation both glorious and enough to chase out the pain for a while. Maybe even to heal Sam.  
  
"You silly thing." Sam grins, and the worlds seems brighter to Castiel at once. "I am not sure why you've chosen me of all witches, or even if you did so for what I am… what we are. Maybe we are both as foolish as the other, as broken, too afraid and yet drawn to something… to this, whatever this is."  
  
Confused, Castiel narrows his eyes at the stammering in the voice gone raw with emotions. Is his human tongue going rusty? What is Sam saying between the lines? Before he can consider it further Sam wheels them both away, with Castiel rendered unmoving in his lap in his bewilderment over emotions maybe shared. Fast… with experienced pulls from his strong hands… Sam steers his wheelchair onwards into the kitchen to take the pie down from the shelf. The sight and renewed smell of it being offered to him overwhelms Castiel enough to flip his mind towards his far closer to the surface animal instincts, he wants… oh how he wants to devour the generous slice which Sam is carving out for him.  
  
After the delicious treat though, as Castiel licks the crumbs and cream from his paws, his mind puzzles together what he's missed before. Has Sam figured out who is hiding behind his cat self? How? When? What stumps him more though is how in his upset state of mind Sam seems to push him away. Not out of fear, but to protect him from every wrong the once hunter believes himself to be. Driven to silence that far too destructive voice, Castiel follows the man who's slipped away while the pie distracted his animal half. His worrying heart stops pounding with fear when he spots Sam, sitting in the middle of the garden, looking out over his wild grown borders with wet eyes of sorrow. Absent-mindedly he rubs at his hurting stump, a move which betrays the unspoken depth and origin of his mood gone towards grief.  
  
Another one of his impulsive jumps, brought on by his returned need to hug his witch, brings Castiel close enough for a lick over the palm which feeds him so much love. "Meow", he calls to Sam for attention, and nudges the same hand even as he settles back down. Castiel knows now in his gut why he has to stay by his side, throughout the nights as well. Why he wants to. It's in his genes to help out of love. No more running away from what he's born to be. Whether he is ready to be close to a human again or not, he can see that Sam has fallen for him, and in turn the same can be said for his stupid heart. Oh, how he's being pulled in by him!   
  
What he needs to do first though is build up trust between them. Sam needs to see that Castiel is not going to leave his side, no matter how hard he pushes him. He has to understand that his perceived flaws don't scare him away, because they are a part of his inner beauty, that compassionate heart which keeps alive the most courageous soul he's ever met. If only Sam can learn to forgive himself?  
  
But… the same can be said for his own demons. All those mistakes Castiel has made. Maybe it is time he learned to live with them and accept that he can't go back to change where he is in life now? More and more he finds he's actually glad to be in this house. Here with Sam, the one who's yet to judge him, if he's even capable of such an act. The most tragic and painfully beautiful flaw of all in the hunter is that he can forgive others and not himself. Well… Castiel will have to do that for him then. If they can learn to be honest with the other, then maybe they don't have to remain alone?  
  
"Stay?" Sam sounds broken, timid, but also full of hope and want.   
  
Choice made, Castiel moves his head in what is almost a human nod, the best he can do. To make the watery smile on Sam's face grow wider he licks his rough tongue over his thumb. It tastes of Sam and pie, a perfect combination to him, but more rewarding is the return of amusement he sees rise within those soulful eyes painted in nature's wild colours. Yeah, it is a start.  
  
"Thank you."  
  


* * *

  
Perhaps some will judge him as strange, but Sam doesn't feel upset by how Castiel clings to his feline cover, not for himself. After everything he has faced in life Sam understands fear and shyness all too well. Recognises a kindred pained soul even while he hides himself in a ball of fur. How can he not? While he wishes for Castiel not to have suffered enough to get to this point he can't take his pain away… not when he doesn't know his story or what he looks like in human shape. Ever since the spell which joined their essence for a few long minutes Sam knows one thing for sure; there is a generous soul hiding inside of his home, sharing his life. The pull between them seems inevitable. Oddly, it doesn't scare him as much as it did this morning still, for it too comes with a sense of calm… of a new found belonging he hasn't felt in almost two years, not since he almost died. Is magic trying to tell him something?  
  
For once his instincts as a hunter want him to go with the flow. Sam has nowhere else to be, not anymore, and so he can get to know the feline side of Castiel first. Allow it to heal his soul with easy acceptance like only an animal can give. Humans are by far more complicated and he's not so sure that he's ready for long conversations which include explaining his regrets and guilt. Hell, if Castiel keeps living with him in this shape it is a wonder in itself. His friend after all isn't the only being in his house to hide himself. Sam too is shy, for he changes clothes with his door closed… even in his own home. He wants for no one to help him when he puts on his favourite sweat pants and a well-worn, far too often washed pyjama shirt of faded grey. Not because he's afraid to show them his visible scars, but more to hide how vulnerable and angry with himself he has become, his nightmares and invisible memories. How everything in him feels haunted by those few seconds in which he'd reacted too slow…  
  
On a whim Sam reopens his bedroom door far enough for Castiel to slip through the crack should he want to. The second he does so his feline companion takes him up on the offer. A blur of black brushes along his good leg and it jumps onto the foot end of his bed, from where Castiel looks back at him, head tilted as he meows. Of course it takes Sam a lot longer to get out of his wheelchair and into his bed. His painfully aching and tired body though takes an immediate pleasure from lying down on his mattress, without having to fight gravity to sit or stand up for a second longer. Sam pulls the bed sheets over himself, and he watches as Castiel nestles on his left side, where he easily fits in the king size bed made for two. Glad for the cat's warm presence he brushes his hand over his furred flank before he closes his eyes. "Night, Cas."  
  
"Meow."  
  
Sam is so exhausted that he drifts off with ease. He's no longer angry or upset by fate, and how it doesn't allow for his big brother to visit him. There will always be monsters in their life. Sam should know better than to believe luck may ever go his way… and so he tells himself off on his silly emotions, because he can't change what is anymore than Dean can. The only consolation he has is that he knows when Dean does see an opening he'll drive for hours to have that rain-check he swore to on the phone. Dean doesn't break promises. That is the surest constant he has. And by then? He'll have put his act together, and he will have more answers on whatever he wants for himself. Answers too he may be able to share with Dean, even when he is afraid for how they will be met.   
  
Good intentions aside, Sam still stands powerless to his worst memories and the nightmare he can't ever shed. That night of blood and despair. Of the foulest bastard from hell who had snarled at them as it threatened his father and thrown Sam aside as if he were nothing but a rag doll no child wants to play with. Dismissed, because the worst monster of all wanted to make its point. "I will have you, Sammy, one way or another. Say yes? If not now then maybe you will see differently after I kill your father and your brother", Lucifer had said. Eyes had burned into him in the brightest red of all and his voice had been laced with insincerity. "Perhaps when there is no one left to lead you astray you will see the error of your way. I am not a bad person. I am doing this to free you. Make you live up to your full potential."  
  
On adrenaline alone Sam had scrambled… and crashed to the floor for a second time, defeated by his failing body. Too late! If only he hadn't landed left hip first against the abandoned warehouse wall. If only those metal plates of sharpness and iron pipes hadn't tumbled down to crush his bones and flesh apart. White flashes of insane pain had still surged through Sam even as he saw his father fall. As he saw Lucifer haul his angel blade up through flesh and organs alike. He'd lain powerless on the wet, concrete floor. Unable to tear himself away from watching as the light in eyes full of fatherly pride and love died out, never once looking away from him. John Winchester had died in a last effort to keep the devil away from his youngest boy.   
  
"No!!" Sam's shout of anguish had bounced off the wall even as his body gave way under a leg so mangled it couldn't be saved… the grief also too much to bear. Everything gone to a blur after, because the cold of death was seeping fast towards his heart… until by some miracle Dean had managed to light the ring of holy fire which trapped the devil inside. Broken fingers ignored in a last ditch effort from a desperate brother. Heat had seeped into everything before Dean smacked him in the face. "Don't you let go. Help is coming… Sammy, stay awake! Dammit!"   
  
Tonight Sam hears Lucifer howl… then laugh. No fire stops the devil! Still, for all of his threats those eyes back then had concealed something else beyond the anger. Perhaps Lucifer had realised he had lost his chance, had blown it by far. Except that he too saw an opportunity in Sam's pain. Thrived on his loss maybe, and on how it tore at Dean. "You son of a bitch. You fix him… do you hear?" But the devil doesn't do sympathy. Head held high he'd put out the fire. One wink of red eyes ablaze with self-confidence had told Sam without words that there would be a next time. The promise which continues to haunt his mind, day and night. Which has Sam crying out in his sleep now.   
  
Still, not even the devil can look past the right spells, can he? Hence why Sam is waiting for the moon to stop hiding itself behind the clouds and rise again. He needs its natural powers, the magic of the Earth too to create a bubble of protection around his house and garden. Not to hide himself, but to shield away everything he's gathered as well… the artefacts which may be used to fight the father of all bastards. Plus his sanctuary of sorts can become a safe haven for his brother too. Sam knows that Dean doesn't like magic much, but what else do they have to work with? The three hex bags he's made aren't strong enough. Not the one tucked in the trunk of the Impala, or the one Dean swore to always carry with him. Not even the one he's tied to the back of his wheelchair. They need more power.   
  
As he relives the worst night of his life, Sam fights hard against being afraid for himself, because he knows that he can't afford to surrender. That if Lucifer wears him down then the apocalypse may well be on its way… again… and he hates being used for that. Feels beyond disgusted by the knowledge that the fallen archangel wants to take over his body, use it to end humanity. No way! Not if he can prevent it. Saving everyone will be the last thing he does!  
  
Yet, in his nightmare his free will lies shattered beyond repair. His eyes are glowing in ominous red while his hands are killing Dean, and it hits Sam hard how he doesn't care. Can't, because his body is not his own anymore. As he fades away to nothing Sam feels so much colder than he's ever done… even when he almost died in the warehouse. He knows by far too intimately so how Lucifer doesn't burn hot, but how he sizzles with the cold of his angelic grace and his anger towards the 'inferior creations' of the father who has abandoned him, God. So much callous hatred… Sam shivers… cries out, unheard, begging to be released… "Let me go."  
  
"Sam…" His name slips into his fitful sleep, into the dark of where he hates to go, but from where he can't keep away, no matter how hard he fights his demonic memories. When his mind refuses to listen to the call of his name a hand nudges his shoulder… and again. "Wake up, please? You're scaring me… Sam! Come on… break out of it."   
  
Voice and touch urge him to let go. He doesn't know them, but somehow he's not afraid to let them reach out. To take their offering as a lifeline, as a means to escape the devil once more. Desperate to be free Sam sits up in his bed, gasping for air as if he were drowning in his sleep… and maybe he was. Disorientated, he looks at the naked stranger, whom sits kneeling by his side, with vivid blue irises gone wet and intense with concern. He knows them and not. Can it be? "Castiel?"  
  
"At last", Castiel breathes out in relief. "You were having a nightmare… and I… maybe I shouldn't, but you sounded so scared and alone, and I wanted to… had to break you from it before you hurt yourself."  
  
"S…sorry. Did I wake you?" Sam feels too shaken almost to speak.  
  
Belated Castiel grabs the blanket from the bed end to cover himself. A shy blush creeps on his cheeks and under his scruffy beard. The lines around his eyes crinkle in concern, then ease, as he backs up. "I must apologise for the state I'm in. It happens when I shift… and I don't have any clothes to begin with, not any more. Maybe I should…"  
  
Before the man gone shy can slip further away from him, Sam gathers enough of his wits to shake his head. "Don't leave me, please?" He reaches out on impulse, touching the nearest wrist and wrapping his fingers around it when he's not rejected. "You don't have to go on my account. I… I…" The sob of anguish rips from him, because the nightmare hasn't left him yet, far from it. He's shaking with fear, but feeling the heat of another person so close by makes him want to reach out… to be held…   
  
To his shock Castiel seems to know what he's saying where he broke apart on the want. Arms wrap around him, strong and gentle at once as they pull him near. "It's okay… I am not going anywhere, Sam."   
  


* * *

  
Castiel is unsure of how long they've sat huddled together, with Sam's head against his chest and his tears seeping into the blanket that seems to slowly lose its battle with gravity to reveal more of his skin by the second. He is reluctant though to do something about it. As unintentional as his shift was, and so purely driven by emotions to boot, Castiel has no regrets about doing so. Being this close to another human… being trusted enough by Sam that he doesn't hide, for now, means the world to him too. It's been years since he's felt this blessed by the contact of a warm body against his non-furred skin; it is a sensation he is by far more fond of than he remembers. One which he wants so much more of. Maybe being human for a while is a good thing for him?  
  
Wet eyes blink up at him in the semi dark room. Only the bed light, which Castiel has switched on, casts Sam in a golden glow. It somehow makes his half long hair seem all the more softer and touchable. Unable to stop his instinct driven self, Castiel strokes it to comfort Sam. At last the sobs of pain are turning to quiet hiccups followed by a deep sigh. Sam looks at him then, eyes wet, and his lips curling up into a wry smile of awkward, regained awareness. "I am sorry."  
  
"Don't be…" Castiel shakes his head, blushing again. "I am the one who intruded on you."  
  
Even as Sam sits back a little he doesn't let go of his wrist. "I am glad you did. Cas… you're something else… and I knew it. Seeing you like this though, I thought you looked good as a cat, but this version of you… you shouldn't hide." Entranced by the moment of eerie calm which seems to befall them both now, Castiel leans into the thumb of the other hand as it brushes over his cheek and longer grown stubble alike. "Not from me? You don't have to be afraid. I'd never hurt you."  
  
"I know." Castiel rushes to say, before he lets slip some of what he truly feels deep down, "But… I am afraid of myself."  
  
"Why? No wait… you don't have to answer me. Please, can we just talk?"  
  
"Like this?" In his growing shyness over being nude still, Castiel tilts his head, wondering if he should not shift back. As if to taunt him the cool breeze of night comes inside through to opened window to run over his spine. He shivers, and lifts the blanket higher up around his torso again. For once he's not ready to let go of this shape. Now that he's come this far he wants for what Sam is offering. More so when Sam continues to gaze at him with eyes full of fondness and a similar shyness. Why is the former hunter not disgusted by how Castiel isn't quite clean? Why does he look past the smear of earth on his shoulder or the scratches from rose bushes over his flank?  
  
"Oh, of course, I am sorry… if you want to cover yourself, there are clean flannels over on the chair and clean boxers in my top drawer. I can look away?"  
  
A nod is all he has to offer. Confused still by the easy acceptance and nonchalance over his naked state, Castiel unfurls his body from the bed, with the blanket wrapped around his modesty. Allowing for his cat eyes to see more in the darkness around him, he finds the offered blue, white and grey chequered flannel shirt where Sam said it was. He slips into the soft fabric… then rolls up the too long sleeves a bit so that his hands can pop out of them. Castiel considers putting on more clothes, but he feels enough out of his comfort zone as it is and the flannel does a well enough job of hiding his private parts, so he decides against it. "You can look", he says, as he returns to kneel on the bed next to Sam.   
  
"Lie down, so I don't have to look up. I have to do enough of that during the day."  
  
Castiel smiles wryly at the comment, because he has seen Sam do it with the few visitors and the mail man dropping off a package too often not to understand why he wants to be met on the same level now. Lying down on his left side, he faces Sam. "I've lived with a witch before, but he… he didn't get me like you seem to. He…" Castiel swallows around his painful memories, not yet ready to speak of his grief, not sure if he ever can face the losses he forced upon himself. "He insisted to hold on to the old ways. Owned me, but I, the cat half of me… he's too wild, free for what Bartholomew wanted of me… and I never could make him see how the diamond stuffed collar he bought wasn't enough to keep me from shifting. I couldn't be his husband for the sake of 'bettering our community' alone."  
  
"You are not the trophy wife type…" Sam huffs, upset on his behalf. "He's stupid to want that. Cas, I would never… I mean if you want to stay and live with me then I am happy, but I am not stopping you from leaving if I am not the one for you. I get that I am flawed. That I am…"  
  
"Human." Castiel interrupts him with a sad shake of his head, because he can't let Sam continue down this path. "As I am, _when_ I remember."  
  
"You prefer being a cat?"  
  
"I think so. Am I strange?"  
  
"How would I know? I am not a… familiar, right? That's what you were born as."  
  
"Did you learn so from your books?"  
  
Sam shrugs. "Maybe?"  
  
Grinning at the sheepish smile on the face before his, Castiel leans closer to Sam to brush a stray lock of hair from his cheek. "I won't ask of you to change either, my witch, but you need to learn that I… well, my kind, we are driven by instinct when we choose the one. Me staying? _My_ choice, and yet magic too plays a part. Can't you feel it?"  
  
"That pull? Yeah, but I believe too much in free will to trust it."  
  
"Of course, you do. You're a Winchester. Sam, I won't have you be anyone else but yourself. If we're meant to be then it'll happen, because we both want it to and not because we were told to make it so. I can't do that again."  
  
"You believe in magic though, yes?"  
  
"It's too much a part of us for me not to."  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Now we sleep. It is what us humans do at night, right?"  
  
"Right." Sam grins. "What was I thinking? Come here, you…"  
  
Maybe it should feel stranger to him than it does, but Castiel curls up easily into the arms held out for him. As they embrace him he lets out a sound close to a purr. This is home… as fragile an emotion as it still is. He fits here against the sweet body heat of Sam. Against the cotton covered chest of muscles and scars born from a life full of dangers. Looking up with a smile he kisses the nearest shaven cheek, chaste enough for his gesture not to be mistaken for anything else but an expression of his gratitude. It's too soon to listen to his deepest desires and so he offers, "Thank you." Castiel curls his fingers into the soft cotton sheets and closes his eyes to the intense emotions of a happiness they won't speak of tonight.  
  


* * *

  
At dawn Sam opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. He's lying on his good side, facing the new presence in his life, whose body lies bathed in the morning sunlight that's streaking inside through a slim gap between the curtains. In his sleep everything about Castiel looks at ease. No purrs, no meows… and no fur to hide him. Sam's blue, flannel shirt covers his upper half like an oversized shelter of soft fabric. Yet its bottom half hugs his thick, strong thighs and round ass alike with the perfect hint of his handsome, masculine body.   
  
Oh, Sam has peeked last night. How could he resist such a temptation? No more than one stolen glimpse though. Now, in the waking light of day, the beauty before him looks even more tempting to him. Is he wrong to want closeness with such a complex creature of contradiction? Cat and man in one soul… but also confidence and shyness. Hope and pain, with a world full of memories which he doesn't share. A life lived before, but then Sam too is on his second attempt.  
  
While he has no clue about the full story, Sam hates to think that Castiel had to leave because of love turned sour… of hope and dreams shattered by a strict man who'd never tried to understand the devotion and consider the feelings of his familiar. From where has Castiel come? How far has he walked until he first slipped through Sam's open window? Until he crawled into his lap for cuddles and a place to fit in. Had Castiel lived on the streets? Is that why he always looks so scruffy? So many questions.   
  
Still, Sam is not sure if he needs the answers, because he'd rather look forwards instead of back to the pain they've each left behind. It's enough for now to be angry with a stranger. With the man who'd dismissed Castiel in a way which so clearly leaves him scarred, hurt to where he's come to blame himself. Why? In his eyes no one has a right to hurt someone so kind… so full of life and of someone unique even to his kind. All of it draws Sam closer to this sleeping being in his bed, or maybe Castiel is not asleep anymore?   
  
The fluster of awareness creeps out from under flannel. Castiel blinks open sleep filled eyes of blue gone softer than Sam has ever seen them. "Sam?"  
  
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It is just… you're… adorable." Sam blurts out, then he bites his tongue as he blushes. It wasn't his intention to be so straightforward.   
  
Castiel is immediate in his protest. "Am not."  
  
Unable to ignore how he feels about him Sam kisses the tip of the nose before his. "You are to me. Listen, whatever this is between us, I want to see where it can go. Find out why magic has chosen me as its vessel. I've fought my powers for so long, but I am so tired of being afraid of losing myself to this. Hell knows, I have tried it dad's way and come up short as a hunter…. but I don't want to remain a victim of the devil. I need to find my way onwards from here and I know, in my gut, that I am meant to do it with you, my familiar. If that means I am to become the witch… and even if I have to lose Dean…" Sam swallows down his fear, knows he can't listen to it anymore. "Cas… I see it now, that this is me… and so I ask, will you help me find my path?"  
  
"It's only what I've been doing… trying to, in my own way." The answering smile is both a knowing and self-aware one.  
  
"So it was you turning the pages?"  
  
"Maybe?" Shyness turns to mischief and love. The cat in Castiel seems done with talking. "Sam… can we stay in bed? I haven't done this in a while but we can speak in more ways than one. May I kiss you?"  
  
Upon his nod of consent warm lips find his, kissing them soft. The shock of sweet pleasure comes and goes far too chaste, but before he can complain about it Castiel draws close for seconds, which Sam answers in kind. Their next kiss speaks of promise and of passion. Sam loses himself to the tongue which explores his mouth with eager… which steals his breath in the most enjoyable way of all. Why haven't they done this sooner? Castiel tastes to him like no one else has ever done, with a sense of belonging and a whisper of, "finally." Sam greedily drinks in the soft sigh of pleasure from his new lover until the need for air draws them apart, but not too far, because they can't bear it.   
  
Sam is not sure of which one of them has moved first. His hands though are making light work of undoing the buttons on the flannel wrapped around Castiel's sun tanned chest while a hand sneaks in under his grey sleep shirt to brush over his spine in exploration of his skin. Blessed touch, at last! To have someone caress him with such eager and to be able to pleasure them with the same passion in turn is enough for his cock to take an immediate notice. Sam moans when next Castiel sneaks his hand into his sweat pants and around his ass, the heat of his palm adding to his joy and filling him up even more.   
  
Closer… he has to be closer, wants more. Clothes are only in the way and so Sam sits up to aid Castiel. Nothing can stay between them, not for a second longer. Sam's entire body aches to be touched by those smaller hands than his, which next brush down his torso and over his hip, careless of his scars. Accepting of them. They are mindful too of the missing part of his leg and yet not afraid to meet with his stump. Castiel worships him like there is no tomorrow after this dawn. In turn Sam teases him with his tongue, licking at those delightful nipples, to suck each one in turn between his lips and teeth. The soft mewls of pleasure which escape from Castiel only serve to further shatter his shyness.   
  
"Sam… fuck, you feel so good. Please… may I make love to you?"   
  
"How?" His stammer joins his flustered look of awe, because he's never been close to another soul since that awful night when he lost his old self. He's not sure how to express all of what he's feeling in the moment. The truth is that Sam has never gone beyond second base with men. He has only slept with women and a handful of them at that, because he doesn't do casual… and to him this is about so much more too. Can it be love? Sam wants to be with Castiel for more than the heat of a moment. He needs him in his life in ways he's never wanted to share himself with anyone else.  
  
"If you want, I can show you."  
  
"Yes… please, do…"   
  
His choice from the heart meets with Castiel taking a careful lead by guiding Sam by the hips, so that his longer body lies spread out onto his back. There is no pause in the caressing hands and lips as they revere his abdomen and thighs. He barely notices it when Castiel reaches out over to his bedside table where Sam last left the flask of body lotion. Slick fingers at last smooth up and down his arousal, playing with his balls too. He all but cries out in his pleasure. Fuck, it's been too long ago since someone did this for him. Since he's wanted to make love with someone so badly that he now clings to those strong, narrow hips of Castiel in his silent plea for more. The unexpected, unwanted pause in touch however rips a whimper of loss from his lips.   
  
"I've got you." Castiel moves away to sit up on his knees and brush aside the last of the sheets until they're gone. His body language breathes nothing but careful intent as he shifts to part Sam's legs. Guided by those same tempting hands, which have left him beyond wanting, his hips are put on a pillow, exposing him to eyes so full of longing that he can't refuse them. As his breath and wits alike get stolen away Sam can feel every second of how Castiel slides his clever fingers in between his ass cheeks. They soon are teasing over his opening, sensual and yet persistent… seeking their way inside of him in a smooth slide of intrusion. His initial discomfort though fast tips over to a shock of pleasure and a growing want for more.   
  
Something in the eyes which are watching every expression on his face shimmers silver, as if for a moment the moon shines at dawn. Is it magic? Sam is not sure, can't be or ask under the intimate touches into his core, which have become warm and slick, bordering on divine as another finger joins the first. They curl deeper fast until out of nowhere they unleash a world of blissful sensations upon his body. Sam cries out in his pleasure of how Castiel keeps finding that spot inside of him… and again, until to his regret those sinfully, long fingers retreat to leave him feeling bereft. "Please", Sam pleads for what his soul wants. "Take me."  
  
To his joy, Castiel is quick to crawl closer to bend up his legs and settling further in between them. In one perfect, long roll of his hips he then slides home inside of Sam. The instant rush of friction and the pleasure pain of perfect fullness is enough to narrow his world in to the man above him, the one whose gaze of awe meets his. Castiel too appears to be left speechless by how well they're fitting together. They're both panting, trying to stave off that immediate rush, a premature orgasm. No… they want more out of their first time. From this there is no turning back. They are alone no more… with their magic settling between them in the same way that their bodies have merged as one.   
  
Rather than speak of his joy, Sam arches up his lower half, a little crooked, because only one of his hips is strong enough to meet the one who's split him open raw with pleasure and emotions of love. Words aren't needed. In its place his body begs of Castiel to take him apart further… and it doesn't get let down. Breaking their gaze, Castiel moves to make slow love to him, while he keeps Sam's weaker side supported. His hold lessens the strain. It too helps their owner with doing Sam apart on a perfect angle and playing his body like an instrument. More so with each thrust Castiel wrings the pleasure from deep within him, seemingly effortless, with nothing but his hips and hands. Where Sam has never let any one else take the lead he finds it surprisingly easy and more than rewarding to submit to this creature of magic above and inside of him.   
  
With each hard thrust wave after wave of pleasure builds up deep within him. He all but drowns in how Castiel picks up the pace to taking him apart, almost recklessly so, without letting go of that intense tenderness and determination to ensure a hit home into his core. The sweet slide of the act of getting there only adds to his pleasure. Unyielding, Castiel takes him harder and faster, until the rush of joy becomes too much to keep inside… and Sam has to let it go. As he clenches around the sweet fullness for one last time he can feel how in turn Castiel settles in deep inside of him to set free his answering release with a deep moan gone husky with desire and love alike. Sam feels beyond sweaty and sticky, but he cares less.   
  
What is strangely unsettling to him is when Castiel retreats from his heat to ease his legs back down onto the bed and roll Sam sideways so he can lie down by his side, facing him, until they have caught their breaths. Feeling awed by the somewhat stranger in his bed still Sam reaches out to rest his palm against a bearded cheek. "Cas? I…" He falters, because he has no words for how he's fallen, how hopelessly enchanted he is by Castiel.  
  
"I agree. That was… enjoyable, inevitable too…" Castiel blushes.   
  
Sam catches onto what he means to say from that smile of fondness on that ever expressive face. The love they've found is indeed undeniable, as is their fear and awe of how deep their connection seems to run. He knows then that he has to ask, "Does this mean that you will stay?" It's not that Sam doesn't know the answer, but more that he refuses to make the choice for another being… especially when he gets why freedom of soul is so important to Castiel and his familiar nature.  
  
"Try and get rid of me."  
  
"Never." The tone of humour, which has crept into their conversation, doesn't disguise their insecurities. Sam understands too well how Castiel feels, and so as he sobers up he entwines their fingers. "Never", he repeats more assured when he realises that, while they still have a long way to go on getting to know each other, he isn't willing to face his future without Castiel. Today is only the first day of the rest of his life. Sam for one has no complaints about its glorious, but gone again lazy start between the sheets… and judging from the answering soft smile of contentment sent his way he knows that he's not alone in thinking so.


End file.
